Rural Sports: A Georgic - Canto Ii. Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDEEFF GGHHIJKK LLMMNNOOCCPP CCAAQQRRSSCCJJJTQQUU VVJJOOGGWWAAQQJJJJQQ XXEEYYZZQQ A2A2JJGGB2B2B2QQ AAXXHHC2C2YYD2D2JJE2 F2G2G2GGH2H2QQI2I2 J2J2K2K2L2L2JJ M2M2JJJJN2N2GGJJJJ O2O2P2P2ZZAAQ2Q2QQR2 S2T2T2GGU2U2D2D2V2W2 H2H2 X2X2Y2Z2U2U2A3A3Now sporting muse draw in the flowing reins | A |
Leave the clear streams a while for sunny plains | A |
Should you the various arms and toils rehearse | B |
And all the fisherman adorn thy verse | B |
Should you the wide encircling net display | C |
And in its spacious arch enclose the sea | D |
Then haul the plunging load upon the land | E |
And with the soale and turbot hide the sand | E |
It would extend the growing theme too long | F |
And tire the reader with the watery song | F |
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Let the keen hunter from the chase refrain | G |
Nor render all the ploughman's labour vain | G |
When Ceres pours out plenty from her horn | H |
And clothes the fields with golden ears of corn | H |
New now ye reapers to your task repair | I |
Haste save the product of the bounteous year | J |
To the wide gathering hook long furrows yield | K |
And rising sheaves extend through all the field | K |
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Yet if for silvan sport thy bosom glow | L |
Let thy feet greyhound urge his dying foe | L |
With what delight the rapid course I view | M |
How does my eye the circling race pursue | M |
He snaps deceitful air with empty jaws | N |
The subtle hare darts swift beneath his paws | N |
She flies he stretches now with nimble bound | O |
Eager he presses on but overshoots his ground | O |
She turns he winds and soon regains the way | C |
Then tears with goary mouth the screaming prey | C |
What various sport does rural life afford | P |
What unbought dainties heap the wholesome board | P |
- | |
Nor less the spaniel skilful to betray | C |
Rewards the fowler with the feather'd prey | C |
Soon as the lab'ring horse with swelling veins | A |
Hath safely hous'd the farmer's doubtful gains | A |
To sweet repast the unwary partridge flies | Q |
With joy amid the scatter'd harvest lies | Q |
Wandering in plenty danger he forgets | R |
Nor dreads the slavery of entangling nets | R |
The subtile dog scowrs with sagacious nose | S |
Along the field and snuffs each breeze that blows | S |
Against the wind he takes his prudent way | C |
While the strong gale directs him to the prey | C |
Now the warm scent assures the covey near | J |
He treads with caution and he points with fear | J |
Then lest some centry fowl the fraud descry | J |
And bid his fellows from the danger fly | T |
Close to the ground in expectation lies | Q |
Till in the snare the fluttering covey rise | Q |
Soon as the blushing light begins to spread | U |
And glancing Phoebus gilds the mountain's head | U |
His early flight the ill fated partridge takes | V |
And quits the friendly shelter of the brakes | V |
Or when the sun casts a declining ray | J |
And drives his chariot down the western way | J |
Let your obsequious ranger search around | O |
Where yellow stubble withers on the ground | O |
Nor will the roving spy direct in vain | G |
But numerous coveys gratify thy pain | G |
When the meridian sun contracts the shade | W |
And frisking heifers seek the cooling shade | W |
Or when the country floats with sudden rains | A |
Or driving mists deface the moist'ned plains | A |
In vain his toils the unskilful fowler tries | Q |
While in thick woods the feeding partridge lies | Q |
Nor must the sporting verse the gun forbear | J |
But what's the fowler's be the muse's care | J |
See how the well taught pointer leads the way | J |
The scent grows warm he stops he springs the prey | J |
The fluttering coveys from the stubble rise | Q |
And on swift wing divide the sounding skies | Q |
The scattering lead pursues the certain sight | X |
And death in thunder overtakes their flight | X |
Cool breathes the morning air and winter's hand | E |
Spreads wide her hoary mantle o'er the land | E |
Now to the copse thy lesser spaniel take | Y |
Teach him to range the ditch and force the brake | Y |
Now closest coverts can protect the game | Z |
Hark the dog opens take thy certain aim | Z |
The woodcock flutters how he wavering flies | Q |
The wood resounds he wheels he drops he dies | Q |
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The towering hawk let future poets sing | A2 |
Who terror bears upon his soaring wing | A2 |
Let them on high the frighted hern survey | J |
And lofty numbers paint their airy fray | J |
Nor shall the mounting lark the muse detain | G |
That greets the morning with his early strain | G |
When 'midst his song the twinkling glass betrays | B2 |
While from each angle flash the glancing rays | B2 |
And in the sun the transient colours blaze | B2 |
Bride lures the little warbler from the skies | Q |
The light enamour'd bird deluded dies | Q |
- | |
But still the chase a pleasing task remains | A |
The hound must open in these rural strains | A |
Soon as Aurora drives away the night | X |
And edges eastern clouds with rosy light | X |
The healthy huntsman with the cheerful horn | H |
Summons the dogs and greets the dappled morn | H |
The jocund thunder wakes the enliven'd hounds | C2 |
They rouse from sleep and answer sounds for sounds | C2 |
Wide through the furzy field their rout they take | Y |
Their bleeding bosoms force the thorny brake | Y |
The dying game their smoking nostrils trace | D2 |
No bounding hedge obstructs their eager pace | D2 |
The distant mountains echo from afar | J |
And hanging woods resound the flying war | J |
The tuneful noise the sprightly courser hears | E2 |
Paws the green turf and pricks his trembling ears | F2 |
The slacken'd rein now gives him all his speed | G2 |
Back flies the rapid ground beneath the steed | G2 |
Hills dales and forests far behind remain | G |
While the warm scent draws on the deep mouth'd train | G |
Where shall the trembling hare a shelter find | H2 |
Hark death advances in each gust of wind | H2 |
New stratagems and doubling wiles she tries | Q |
Now circling turns and now at large she flies | Q |
Till spent at last she pants and heaves for breath | I2 |
Then lays her down and waits devouring death | I2 |
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But stay advent'rous muse hast thou the force | J2 |
To wind the twisted horn to guide the horse | J2 |
To keep thy seat unmov'd hast thou the skill | K2 |
O'er the high gate and down the headlong hill | K2 |
Canst thou the stag's laborious chase direct | L2 |
Or the strong fox through all his arts detect | L2 |
The theme demands a more experienc'd lay | J |
Ye mighty hunters spare this weak essay | J |
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Oh happy plains remote from war's alarms | M2 |
And all the ravages of hostile arms | M2 |
And happy shepherds who secure from fear | J |
On open downs preserve your fleecy care | J |
Whose spacious barns groan with increasing store | J |
And whirling flails disjoint the cracking floor | J |
No barbarous soldier bent on cruel spoil | N2 |
Spreads desolation o'er your fertile soil | N2 |
No trampling steed lays waste the ripen'd grain | G |
Nor crackling fires devour the promis'd gain | G |
No flaming beacons cast their blaze afar | J |
The dreadful signal of invasive war | J |
No trumpet's clangor wounds the mother's ear | J |
And calls the lover from his swooning fair | J |
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What happiness the rural maid attends | O2 |
In cheerful labour while each day she spends | O2 |
She gratefully receives what heaven has sent | P2 |
And rich in poverty enjoys content | P2 |
Such happiness and such unblemish'd fame | Z |
Ne'er glad the bosom of the courtly dame | Z |
She never feels the spleen's imagin'd pains | A |
Nor melancholy stagnates in her veins | A |
She never loses life in thoughtless ease | Q2 |
Nor on the velvet couch invites disease | Q2 |
Her home spun dress in simple neatness lies | Q |
And for no glaring equipage she sighs | Q |
Her reputation which is all her boast | R2 |
In a malicious visit ne'er was lost | S2 |
No midnight masquerade her beauty wears | T2 |
And health not paint the fading bloom repairs | T2 |
If love's soft passion warms her happy swain | G |
An equal passion in her bosom reign | G |
No home bred jars her quiet state control | U2 |
Nor watchful jealousy torments her soul | U2 |
With secret joy she sees her little race | D2 |
Hang on her breast and her small cottage grace | D2 |
The fleecy ball their little fingers cull | V2 |
Or from the spindle draw the length'ning wool | W2 |
Thus flow her hours with constant peace of mind | H2 |
Till age the latest thread of life unwind | H2 |
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Ye happy fields unknown to noise and strife | X2 |
The kind rewarders of industrious life | X2 |
Ye shady woods where once I used to rove | Y2 |
Alike indulgent to the muse and love | Z2 |
Ye murmuring streams that in meanders roll | U2 |
The sweet composers of the pensive soul | U2 |
Farewell The city calls me from your bowers | A3 |
Farewell amusing thoughts and peaceful hours | A3 |
John Gay
(1)
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